Michael Vick '10 - At this moment, I feel as if I could write a dissertation based solely on last weekend's experiences in Berlin. Many were morose and awe-inspiring: walking over the former location of SS headquarters, where the “Final Solution to the Jewish Problem” was designed and political dissidents were tortured; standing before the graveyard holding the remains of 2,500 Soviet soldiers who died taking Berlin and finally destroying the Nazi Wehrmacht; gazing upon a picture of the faces of East German protestors who were killed by Soviet tank rounds shortly after the picture was taken — all of these sent a cold chill through me.

The city is full of history, and knowing some of that history only made the things I felt as I walked around it even more powerful.

The most potent experiences I had in Berlin are associated with the “Field of Stelae,” a plaza of rectangular column-gravestones that serves as a memorial for the murdered Jews of Europe. The square is not flat, but forms a bowl shape so that the “graves” tower over anyone standing in the center. From the street, those walking deeper into the memorial seem to be consumed by the dark stones. The layout of the columns into narrow rows and columns means that even if you are able to hear someone nearby, you still won't see them until you both round a corner and bump into each other; if you stand in the middle and look up the sloping ground towards the exit, you catch a only momentary glimpse of people walking down the perpendicular columns before they disappear. At the lowest point, the sense of despair and isolation envelopes you, and it feels like that graves are about to smash together and entomb.

The experience didn't end when I walked back onto the street, either; while sitting outside a small pizza- and döner-shop across from the memorial, my head was filled with thoughts that I can't even begin to convey yet.

Other experiences, however, were more jubilant.

When the sunlight broke through the clouds and caused a cross of light to form on the silver sphere of the TV tower—a symbol of East German achievement constructed after the much smaller golden cross atop the Berlin cathedral was removed—I couldn't help but laugh. I met a German couple on Friday afternoon, and we ended up having dinner and talking about life in East Berlin. It was interesting hearing the perspective of “everyday” East Berliners who experienced first-hand the drawbacks and advantages of reunification.

Of course, it only made sense to visit the DDR Museum following this conversation, where I got an even-more detailed glimpse into life of the life of the average East German. Although some aspects of the museum were humorous and light-hearted — one could sit in a Trabi, the standard car available to East Germans, or one could rock out to music from popular East German bands — the exhibits detailing the history of the Wall and standard practices of the Stasi recalled the more sinister facets of life in the East.

The museum helped flesh out some of the pros and cons that we discussed in German class last semester, yet it, like many things here, leaves me with the task of assembling the details into a coherent lesson that I can use later in life.